Conversations with my 13 year old self
by speakingwordsofwisdom
Summary: I was playing that game where you put your ipod on shuffle and write a short story for whatever songs come up. Scullys POV. Review, and i'll post some more :
1. Chapter 1

Rated:K+

I wrote this ages and ages ago, and I don't really know why i'm publishing it now, cept that its not worth bugging someone to use their computer if you're only gonna post one or two stories. So here you are...

I just put my mp3 on shuffle to get these songs, I might post some more if I can be botherd later, and I get enough reviews :) So hopefully you wont hate it. Btw, if you want better x files fan fics than this, I recommend anything written by OneTurtleDove.

* * *

Conversations with my 13 year old self- Pink

Silence.

A roaring in my head.

The silence ushers in the things I have tried to forget, every stupid mistake I have ever made, the B that should have been an A, the prizes I haven't won, the friends I don't have, the family who seems to notice me only when I fail.

All the times that I say the wrong thing, that I stammer or drop something, everything I have ever forgotton. All the other times too.

I laugh because I can't cry.

My life, a string of failings. A world that couldn't care less.

Penance.

I hear the word at church again and again.

Penance.

Repent.

Repent and do penance and you shall be forgiven.

This is my penance.

The candle flickers.

A point of light glints against the blade.

Crimson blood beads my upper arm. Straight, perfect lines.

What would people say if they saw me now?

I blot the blood away with a tissue.

Would they care?

Would they understand this is the only thing that helps?

Physical pain is a relief.

It blocks out the thoughts inside my head that tell me I am no good.

The pain of the blade is nothing; it is the pain of failiure that is real.

And deep inside of me, a part of me cries that it wasn't meant to be this way.

A part of me that begs to wake from the nightmare.

Floating outside myself, I watch the real Dana cover the cuts with a plaster, and smile.

"_Scully...what's that on your arm?"_

"_Nothing, Mulder, I'm fine"_

*

_**you're angry, I know this**_

_**the world couldn't care less**_

_**you're lonely, I feel this**_

_**and you wish you were the best**_

_**no teachers or guidance**_

_**and you always walk alone**_

_**you're crying at night when**_

_**nobody else is home...**_

* * *

I don't know how to love him- Andrew Lloyd Webber

I never planned to fall in love.

It just didn't happen for people like me.

And I don't mean people with red hair or blue eyes. I don't mean people who can't reach the top shelves in the shop, FBI agents or people who wear suits.

I don't mean lovers of chocolate coverd cherries or FRIENDS re-runs or obscure pieces of art.

I mean people who are labeled things like "the ice woman".

My dreams of a different kind of life ended with a nickname.

I mean people whose center of life gradualy shifts between the ages of 21 and 28 until you find yourself sitting in front of a desk on a perfect sunny morning wondering "how did this happen to me?"

I mean people who cannot make conversation unless there's a real reason behind it, who look back on conversations to see all the things they should have said, who say no when they mean yes, turn to their work when they want to cry and make out they want to be alone when they would have given so much to never be alone again.

We live out our lives and read about passsion in soft-cover romance novels, we smile when we say goodbye to happy couples and at the same time, we are saying goodbye to the dreams we once had of the same things for ourselves.

We live.

Alone.

I had resigned myself to this. It was an inevitablility, and like the scientist I am, like the doctor I was, I recognized it as inevitable and accepted it.

And then....it started with a nickname.

"_He used to have a name at the Academy...Spooky Mulder..."_

"_Nobody down here but the FBI's most unwanted..."_

At first he was just another person in my life, but a series of events, of rescues and confidences and boundless trust made him different.

And soon, I found that when I was with him...I felt different. I became someone new, and I stepped as easily into my new self and my shortend name as greatfully as someone stepping into old shoes.

Something about him changed me, moved me, touched me deeper than anyone ever had before, deeper than I knew anyone could go.

I didn't understand....but I loved it just the same.

I loved _him_.

But like I said before, people like me can't fall in love.

And now I have.

I can't tell him. I'm scared to death because I just know he can't love me back.

He'll tell me, i'll have to accept it....so I won't give him a chance to tell me.

Because i'm scared to death he'll say he does love me back.

If he said that,i know i'd ruin it somehow.

I'd end up pushing him away, again and again until he stopped coming back.

Because people like me can't fall in love.

We don't know how to love.

*

_**I don't know how to love him**_

_**what to do, how to move him**_

_**I've been changed, yes, really changed**_

_**In these past few days, when I see myself**_

_**I seem like someone else.....**_

_**Yet if he said he loved me**_

_**I'd be lost, i'd be frightend**_

_**I couln't cope, just couldn't cope**_

_**I'd turn my head, i'd back away**_

_**I wouldn't want to know.**_

_**He scares me so**_

_**I want him so**_

_**I love him so.**_


	2. My mom by Kimya Dawson

My Mom by Kimya Dawson

I knew he was mine because of his eyes, exactly the same shape as Mulder's, but my shade of deep blue instead of Mulder's hazel.

My son.

_He's so perfect, so tiny, so fragile in my arms, just like the last time i ever held him, before I let him go._

_I put him in the arms of the social worker, and try to smile through the tears that are coursing down my cheeks, knowing its the last time my baby will ever see me._

_I'm trying to smile in case he remembers this last moment we have._

_And crying because i know he won't._

I reach out to pick him up....and then i realise why i cant reach him. Why my blouse sleeves are wet and sticking to my skin.

Suddenly i see the shimmery reflection off the surface of the lake... He is drowning....

Even as i feel the panic grip me, i have hold of him, i'm clutching his tiny body to me, i'm pumping his stomach up and down, i'm trying to push life back into him...

And...and then...he goes limp in my arms.

In that heartbeat of a second, i know its too late, i know its over.

He's gone.

I wish i could be one of the parents you see on tv, who cling onto hope when everyone can see it's hopeless, i wish i could... But i'm not.

It's too late.

I can't hear anything anymore. I can't feel anything except the pain which thuds like a heartbeat...he's gone, he's gone, he's gone.

His face is so still. So perfect.

And all i can think is "I've lost him again...i've lost him again..."

And then i hear Mulder's voice, as if from far away.

"Scully...Scully..."

And i open my eyes.

There's a split second before the memory catches up with me, before i'm sobbing uncontrollably.

Mulder pulls me against his chest, and hugs me tight.

He does this every time i have a nightmare, and usually, just having him there is enough to comfort me.

I cant tell him that this time it's different.

He can't tell me it was only a bad dream, when we both know we lost William a long time ago.

_Have you ever had a dream that your favourite baby's drowning_

_And you grab him by his sweater sleeve, pull him up onto the ground_

_And you can hear the water slosh round inside his tiny gut, you push his belly up and down but he cant cough the water up_

_Suddenly a flood comes out his mouth til there is nothing left inside of him, he's empty now, there isn't even one small breath_

_And he goes limp in your arms_

_All the peoples mouths are moving, all you hear are car alarms, and you wake up and start to cry..._


End file.
